KCBW DAY 7: Your time, your place

Where and how do you take time out to knit and/or crochet? Whether social or solitary, tell readers about your crafting time and space.

I am losing momentum with this thing. Early morning coffee pictures of my couch - which is where I knit, if I'm not at work having lunch on a stool in the break room.

I am one of those people who doesn't look like they're smiling unless they're laughing maniacally.

My knitting space is usually crowded with legs and cats. Which is good, since I knit to have something to keep my hands busy when I'm hanging out with the family. If they're not full of coffee, which they are at 6:30am.

I impulsively bought a pretty chair to knit in, but it just sits there being aesthetic because it isn't actually very comfortable.

And it's full of cats. Bad planning.

This song is on heavy rotation while I'm working. 

KCBW DAY 6: Polls apart (now with functioning poll)

Dress me, internet! Today we are supposed to conduct a poll. Probably a knitting-related one, which this one could be, if the hypothetical cardigans are hand-knit.

 Recently, I have been wanting to establish more of a uniform for myself, work-attire-wise. It helps people if you look like the thing they expect you to be - and I want that thing to be friendly, competent, and accessible. Younger people tend to ping off the reference desk nervously instead of asking for help, and older men look past me to see if someone with more authority is available. A uniform might help everyone feel more comfortable. Myself included. 5 of the same shirts, 5 of the same pants, DONE. I can always cheer it up with amusing jewelry. I'm putting "jeans" in the poll, because that is what everyone at work wears, but I might upgrade to black pants.

So here is what I wear right now (except with hair up):

I was smiling at the camera, but Zenny chose that moment to throw all her coloring books on the floor, and then we had to scramble to clean up and get shoes and keys and shove everyone out the door and POINT ILLUSTRATED - I don't have time to coordinate outfits.

So. Dark and neutral? Bright and chipper? What would make you comfortable approaching a librarian?

Click a button! It is anonymous!

Create your own user feedback survey Create your own user feedback survey

KCBW DAY 5: Something a bit different

This post written by special guest Ogden Nash.

On the discriminate use of animal terms in knitting

I find it dogged of the knitter

To frog a thing that doesn't fit her

And though she'll ribbit to the cuff

She'll not dog it if it's looking ruff

 

 Can you make me one of those?

A knitter rarely knits for money
She'll make socks only for her honey

So if you must ask, never wheedle
Or she'll stab you with a needle



 After hours

The librarian knits industriously
To avoid erupting incusstriously



It's all just knits and purls

Like driving a car through a hula hoop
One does not simply p7tbl

KCBW DAY 4: Bags of fun (oo-er)

Time to delve into that most treasured collection of tools, notions and oddments as you are asked to spill the contents of your knitting or crochet bag, caddy or other method of organisation and put your crafting unmentionables on display.

Oh, this is a bad idea, Blog Week. I am not a tidy bag-keeper. But I will defensively preface this entry by explaining that my mother's bag is worse - she doesn't knit, but she has people who know that I knit, so they foist balls of unwanted yarn on her and she stuffs them in a cloth bag that hangs on the back of the closet door. It stays there so I can have emergency supplies if I'm stuck at her house without my knitting, which is lovely - except that we have some extraordinary indoor wildlife in these parts, and they LOVE bags of yarn that lie undisturbed for months on end. So last weekend I went enthusiastically rummaging through the thing and got a handful of crunching cockroach eggs, a panicky roach in my hair, and a gecko egg jumped down my shirt and broke.

So my bag is pretty nice, really. It very barely even gets any mice in it.

My knitting bag is also my work bag. It contains the usual - wallet, phone, knitting, lunch, emergency toiletries. And whatever sifts to the bottom from any number of things that pass through. Every now and then, I empty it out and give it a good spanking. Now is as good a time as ever.

Let us see what is in this thing:

Looks ok so far.

 

Oh, dear.

clockwise from red blob:

1. knitting - waded up thing which I hope will resemble a blanket when it's spread out
2. stitch holder
3. crumbled knitting charts
4. pen case and tiny sketchbook
5. mass of gradient pens
6. thread & thimble
7. lipsticks - friendly pink and scary red, depending on who's at the desk
8. pads, because a) uterus, and b) library teen emergencies
9. deodorant - two kinds, because I tried to be all-natural and discovered it doesn't work but haven't thrown it out yet
10. book for toddler time
11. ugly keychain with candy stuck in it, which I have no memory of obtaining
12. some kind of pin my kid gave me
13. car keys
14. sesame treat which I won't eat because it somehow has 24 grams of fat in it
15. empty wrapper and 4 pennies
16. hair tie, hidden from hair-band-snapping husband
17. work keys
18. hardware store rewards card
19. note card colored by Leif
20. two wallets
21. orange


Better than the time I emptied my purse and found rocks in it.

KCBW DAY 3: Experimental photography

Instagram knitter-trooper is having a nice day off.

WEEEKEND LOL

Malabrigo, bitches. #malabriiiiigo #vaginabikemerino 

Who wound this skein even?? Look at this nonsense.  KNITPICKS. 

#knitpicks #KNITPIIIICKS #thanksobama #wine #droids 

OMG it's finally done. 

#blockingisforsuckas 

KCBW DAY 2: It's all about you

This post can be about your reality, your aspirations, past, present or future. Enjoy talking about you.

Oh, you sweet altruistic purpose-driven bloggers. My posts are always all about me.

So let's talk about things I find too personal to talk about. And then delete this later, because eew. I will do this in the form of what I imagine to be the top questions people may have. I will answer actual questions in the comments, if anyone has any.

1. Holy shit, you've been blogging for like 12 years and you have no readers, why do you even do this?

I started blogging in the very newborn beginning of intarweb blogs, before people had niches and etsy shops and pretty tutorials. I was in love with someone I had no business being in love with, who did not feel the same, and so I left my life open optimistically, like a book on a coffee table. And it didn't work, but I am still here, talking away for years and years and years. I'm throwing out words like a trail of bread crumbs. I guess it feels more like feeding birds now. I have removed my blog listing from google and closed comments from spammers and anonymous users, which pares down my readers to friends, family, knitters, and intrepid/accidental web acquaintances. I'd feel weird writing anything if I knew 500 people were weighing in on it. Which would probably improve my content, but OH WELL.

2.  Hey, didn't you get divorced? Did you re-marry the same person? What is happening?!

Yeah. We remarried two years ago. It is like this: shitty people can do good things, and still be really unpleasant individuals to be around most of the time. My husband is a good person who has done some really shitty things, and he's very nice to be with. It's been 18 years. You hang on to the people who are gripping your hands as you hurtle through the years, even if you do have stray bread crumbs flying from your skirts.


3. Who would you cast as yourself in the movie of your life?

Tim Minchin.

Maybe Steve Buscemi, when hobos pee in the library sink.

4. What's your favorite song?

Nope, TOO PERSONAL. I am failing at my own questions.


5. What's for dinner?

Oh, damn. *scheduling blog to publish in the morning*


Stay tuned for tomorrow: experimental photography day!

KCBW DAY 1: If you were yarn

"VANILLA."
"Come on, kid, there are 32 flavors here. Pistachio! Rocky road! Coconut! Pick something fun!"
"... FRENCH vanilla."

This went on until I was about 24. If pressed, I always insisted I was a purist, but that wasn't quite it.

In the summers of the early '80s, my mother and I beat around Bloomington on a bike with a plastic toddler seat. We went to outdoor concerts on grassy hills with youths tossing frisbees, ate hummus in the well house, ran from hot summer thunderstorms, and broke down along the countryside in her brother's battered old VW bug. 

 

The well house, portal into the faerie realm

When we visited my grandparents we made ice cream in a big wooden churn, and when we walked through B-town we stopped at the fountain to share a mini coffee Haagen Dazs.

The fountain, which probably animates at night when the square is empty

It was goddamn magical, and no frosty expanse of blue and pink ice cream tubs could compete with that kind of childhood expectation. I chose vanilla because it tasted like Bloomington. I still choose coffee Haagen Dazs if I'm shopping by myself.

In my most romantic imaginings of myself, I'm earthy and bohemian and rebellious - a free-spirited book lover with flowing hair and hippie skirts and natural foods. But in reality, I work and use an e-reader and dress in jeans and shop at Costco. I admire tattoos, but don't have any. We make home-brewed craft ale, and I still prefer light beer. My favorite restaurant is Thai, but my favorite food is hot bread. Basically, I've got the fancy little specks, but I'm still just vanilla. My philosophy is to live a simple, good life, and try not to be an asshole.

 

This is good, too.

But the question presented was: if you were yarn, which yarn would be? This seems like an unlikely turn of events in a person's life, but if someone were to hold me down and force me through a carding machine, I guess I might come out as cotton (if I didn't come out as ribbons of librarian meat). Soft enough to be good for more than dish rags, a bit grubby from being pawed by children's fingers, maybe slightly heavier than I'd prefer. I'd like to say I'm organic, but there's probably some acrylic in there. And as a librarian with three kids, I am definitely not something people spend a lot of money on. I think I'm knitpicks comfy worsted heather.

 

In beige, probably. 

At least I'm all-purpose, and not clown-barf boucle.

3KBCWDAY5 - Something a bit different

I'm going to knit you something. TIME WARP POWERS ACTIVATE.




Video tutorial 
Step 1: try to get Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist to play on crappy old DVD player.
Step 2: knit.
Step 3: gin.

Ta daaaa, I made you a mushroom!

3KCBWDAY4 — A Knitter For All Seasons?

Yes, here it comes. I have posted a picture of my latest knitting project. I am pleased with it. I even show a bit of boob, to interest the non-knitters in my feed. And then someone says it.

"Haha, why do you knit in Hawaii?!"

I have had people - cold, complaining mainland people - pull on a hat I've made for them and say, "Wow, thanks! Haha, why do you knit in Hawaii?!" And then I snatch the hat back and beat them around the head with it.

Some folks really want to know, though. So for them, I may explain:

1) Library air conditioning is cold. Librarians wear cardigans.
2) People ask me to make them things.
3) Hawaii actually does have weather.
4) I DO WHAT I WANTS.

In the winter, cold rain sweeps in off the ocean, turning to snow up on the mountain. We have no heating in our homes, with window louvres that rattle in the wind and leak cold air in while we sleep under piles of heavy comforters. Hobos are not going to freeze to death, but everyone starts wearing hoodies and huddling under blankets and enjoying the excuse to covertly slip cold hands under each other's clothes. At high noon on most winter days, you can peel off your socks and sweatshirt and try to make a dash for the beach between cloud bursts, until the evening chill drives you back under the couch blanket. And while we huddle together watching a movie before bed, I knit. In the summers while the kids play outside, I sit in the shade with a cold beer and knit.
 
In Hawaii. 

3KCBWDAY3 — My Knitting Hero

Heroes are not easy for me. Somewhere around 1995, VH1 told me that Jimmy Page had done terrible things to a groupie with a shark, and a hole was punched through the paper wall of my blind adoration. I've never believed in God, so my faith acts more like a sonic shriek, bouncing back from trees and mountains and bare skin to form a landscape of happiness in my psyche. Knitting feeds my radar; the act of using sticks and string to make fabric is absurd and fantastic. It brings you into the present and allows you to drift there, still free enough to look up and connect with other people. I tuck balls under my elbow and knit socks while standing and talking - whereas if people interrupt me while illustrating, I will use my elbows to try to break their faces.

I took up knitting to stop myself from prodding my heartbreak while trying to reconcile with the ex-husband. I was facing the rest of my life without the person I had thought I loved, as well as the person I still loved but couldn't reach, and the only way I could think to keep walking on that path was to look at my feet and focus on the place I was instead of the place I wasn't. So with a trip to the craft store and a stack of library books, I sat obstinately ignoring the 4th of July explosions outside, staring at the diagrams in Stitch 'n Bitch and painstakingly casting on little rows of twisted knots to somehow wrestle from one needle to the other. After an hour or two of struggling, some dormant ancestor got tired of watching me and turned on an ancient brain connection. It was like seeing sounds.

There are many knitters I admire. Funny, vulgar, sexy, wise, and scary knitters. But the more I read history and collect old books about lost gansey traditions of the British Isles, the more I want to travel, dig through regional archives, visit museums, and walk the standing stones of my ancestors to find out who they were before they were me.

My heroes are the ones in our blood that walk us down the path.

 Knitting a Fisher's Life Story

1949 Scottish "gutter quines"

A ball of yarn: 1918

Soldiers at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington, D.C.

 

Knitter 1879, William Adolphe Bouguereau

 

Buxtehude Madonna, Master Bertram of Minden, 

Germany, late 1300s

3KCBWDAY1 – Colour Lovers

sarahapple and I are participating in Knit and Crochet week, a week when fiber geeks all over the world blog daily according to a schedule of topics. I will try to keep up. It is possible my posts at the end of the week will just be phone pictures of me crying in my stash.

Today is colour! With the extra U!

I am completely crap at colors (sorry Canadaland, my lazy American computer is throwing up auto-correct complaints every time I use the extra U). As an illustrator, being crap at color is a bit of  a problem, and I have to do a lot of study to compensate. But this is just yarn, not dinosaurs on surfboards - easy! I thought. My favorite colors are golds and browns and earth tones.

Only evidently I am SO BAD with colors, I don't even know my own favorites, because I tossed open my stash ottoman and it was all blood and fire and ash.

I am seduced by heathers and subtle tonal variation. Reds with red and red. Undertones of blue. High saturation. Dark, complex greys.

Texture is not color. I know this. But texture can hold color back or push it out. I like it pushed right in my face. (leave it)

I tend to keep my fair isle simple, and go for contrast over color. I also snarl the working yarns into big angry wads and have to stop to untwist my balls every few minutes (like your mom). I think I am doing it wrong. But nobody can tell, so I can willfully resist learning to do it correctly for a while longer.

I am enamored with the combination of black, grey, teal, and lime, but I refuse to start my Little Birds until I see Sarah in hers.

Color. I love you. And I hate you so much. Like theater candy.

 Still time to join in!